The Shattered Saint
The curtain came down for the last time and the girls dispersed swiftly to the changing room. All were eager to get back to their people, and to partake of the refreshments which they knew were currently being deployed in the foyer.
Mary-Lou gratefully wriggled out of her Cinderella costume and reached for her Malory Towers uniform. As much as she'd enjoyed playing the part, she wanted to be in something more comfortable. Janet had insisted that the ball gown wouldn't sit right without all the corsetry underneath; and as she pulled on her more normal clothes, Mary-Lou said a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn't been born a hundred-odd years earlier.
Catherine, who'd been on hand to virtually strap Mary-Lou into her costume, felt a twinge of regret that she found it so easy to get out of it. This wasn't something Catherine could explain in any terms beyond wanting to do all she could to help her friend, but she wondered sometimes whether her fondness and desire to help didn't have another motivation.
No, she told herself; you're not like that, Catherine. You know you're not; how could you be, after all that's happened?
She settled for smiling at Mary-Lou instead and asking "How do you feel?"
Mary-Lou smiled back. "I feel almost as good as Cinderella must have felt when that shoe went on!"
"That's the spirit!" Catherine replied. "I told you it would all turn out all right."
Mary-Lou reached out, gave Catherine's shoulder a healthy squeeze. "Thanks to you. Shall we go out there now? I'll introduce you to my parents."
"That would be grand," Catherine said, and she sounded pleased; but there was a curious expression on her face that Mary-Lou could not decipher. Mary-Lou didn't worry about it; this was a night for happiness and rejoicing, not introspection, and she was in a hurry to thank Darrell in front of Mr and Mrs Rivers.
Back in the dormy, uniforms came off and were replaced by pyjamas. Mary-Lou lay down on her bed, hands behind her head, twirling her toes absently in front of her. "I still can't believe I got it right," she breathed; a sigh of relief given words.
Catherine occupied the bed next to her; had done so ever since Daphne Turner's departure had made room for the down-sliding fifth-former. "Well, you can relax now. Let all those words tumble out of your brain, never to return; close your eyes and sleep the sleep of the just."
"Amen to that," Irene replied from the opposite corner. She was also in pyjamas, but was struggling to find a pair of bedsocks that had taken a hint from the rest of her belongings and disappeared when most needed. She eventually found them underneath Belinda's pillow. "Making up tunes for its own sweet sake is one thing, but that's the hardest thing I've ever had to do!"
"But admit it," Belinda encouraged, squeezing her friend's shoulder. "You did enjoy it, didn't you?"
"Oh yes; wouldn't have missed it for the world. You've no idea, Mary-Lou, just how hard it was to score those songs of yours just the right degree of pianissimo so that I didn't drown out your singing, but still carried the tune across the hall. And don't get me wrong; your singing was just right."
"Maybe," interrupted Mavis, "it had something to do with all those fortissimos you put in for Bill and myself on either side; not to mention Pat and Rita. Good god, the shrieking!"
To Gwendoline and Maureen, particularly Maureen, this comment was cause for acute annoyance, given the hard time they had been given over their singing ability. The fact that both Pat and Rita had been instructed to sing off-key in their roles as ugly sisters quite annoyed them.
Sally broke the mood. "Look at good old Mary-Lou there. God's in His heaven and all's well with the world."
Mary-Lou smiled like the proverbial cat, having eaten the canary. It was a surprise for her to feel confident like this; confidence wasn't usually her forte. But one cannot argue with the opinion of hundreds of cheering, clapping parents. And staff. She had always been warned about growing a big head, but praise of the sort she had earned tonight cannot be denied, nor can the desire to bathe in glory when one is given it.
Darrell said, "You know, we really are a bunch of silly asses. It's over half an hour to our bedtime; why on earth are we in our pyjamas?"
"Tired, I guess," Moira Linton replied. "I don't know why young Cinderella here is still awake; I'd be asleep by now if I'd had to carry all that whalebone and chiffon around all night!"
"Let's all go to the common room," Alicia suggested spontaneously. "We can unwind there for a short time before we have to go to bed." This idea was greeted with a chorus of approvals. "All aboard that's coming aboard, then," Alicia added, and led the way out.
When the bustling had settled down, only Catherine and Mary-Lou remained. Mary-Lou had declined on the basis of tiredness, and it was only natural that Catherine, who had done so much to assist Mary-Lou in the past few days, should keep her company.
"Ah, the end of another term," Mary-Lou sighed. "I wonder what next term will be like?"
"So do I."
"Can't wait to see."
"Would you let me know?"
This, from Catherine, made Mary-Lou sit bolt upright. "What do you mean, 'let you know', Catherine? Are you not going to be here for some reason?"
Catherine turned one eye to the dormy door; it was firmly closed, and would give adequate warning of anyone coming in. Knowing what their dorm-mates were like, they would have the full half hour in which to discuss matters. "Well, yes; as a matter of fact, I am leaving."
"Why? You've done well enough in your exams."
"I suppose I have. Listen, Mary-Lou; can I come over and sit with you for a bit?"
Mary-Lou nodded, and Catherine came to sit next to her. "Now what's the matter?" Mary-Lou asked.
"First of all, I want your oath that not a single word of this goes beyond this room."
Mary-Lou laid her right hand on her heart. "Deal," she said.
"Alright, here goes. I've made a rather foolish mistake," Catherine confessed. "Simple, really; not the sort you'd ever think you'd make beforehand, and yet before you know it, you're in up to your neck. The consequences are enough that I'd eventually have to leave here whatever happened, and the end of this term seemed like the best time."
Mary-Lou remembered her previous close friend Daphne Turner, and the awful trouble she'd got into over stealing and lying. She remembered Alicia's cousin June, who only a few weeks ago had been given a last-minute reprieve from expulsion for writing nasty anonymous letters. What, she wondered, was so terrible - yet not so immediate - as to make a girl's removal inevitable but yet take a significant amount of time? "What's happened, Catherine?"
Catherine felt like bursting into tears. It wasn't her situation; she'd spent more than enough time crying over that. No, it was Mary-Lou, doing her best to be strong and supportive when really it was the rest of the world which owed Mary-Lou its strength and support. One did not accept support from Mary-Lou, Catherine told herself. One gave it. And yet here she was, about to take on Catherine's horrible burden. Did she know what she was letting herself in for? Probably not; and yet she was going to do it anyway. "I'm..." She'd said it before, and to more judgemental people, but that didn't stop it from being difficult. "I'm... er... ah... expecting, Mary-Lou."
Mary-Lou was about to ask Catherine exactly what it was that she was expecting, when she suddenly realised what Catherine meant. She didn't mince words. "Oh Catherine, that's awful.
Not You're awful, Catherine noted; that much was apparent from Mary-Lou's tone. "Yes, it is," she replied, glad that Mary-Lou was being direct about this.
Mary-Lou went on. "How did it happen?"
That was all she asked. Not 'How on earth could a Malory Towers girl be so stupid?' Not 'How could you possibly let that happen to you?' No attempt to be judgemental. Just a request for the facts. And that's probably why Catherine told her. "Friends of my mother," she said ruefully, "have a son who goes to Eton. She introduced me to him at half-term; she told me he had excellent career prospects and that a good marriage would be just the thing to help me take care of my poor ailing mother. So I decided the least I could do was make an effort to be friends with him; and before I knew it, we were what you might call an 'item'. And that's where my troubles began."
"He didn't... take advantage of you, did he?" Mary-Lou's great eyes were wide with horror. As one of the smallest girls for her age ever to go to Malory Towers, the very thought of it terrified her. It was one thing to suggest that girls like Darrell or Moira fight back; it was altogether something else to suggest it to Mary-Lou!
Catherine shook her head gravely. "Not really, no. He was... persuasive. Quite flattering, actually. Ah, the silver tongues of amorous young gentlemen."
"So he... talked you into it?" Mary-Lou whispered. "He didn't take you by force? Didn't hurt you?"
Parts of it had been painful, but Catherine didn't want to elaborate. "No," she said sadly. "It was all done with my full willing participation, I'm afraid. And that is why I would have to go, even if for no other reason. But now there are other reasons, and I must leave soon, before they become, ah... physically apparent."
Mary-Lou reached out and took one of Catherine's hands. "I'll stick up for you, Catherine. You've been so very good to me, and I want to find a way to be good right back."
"Thank you, but you know why I must go. There can't be any last minute redemptions this time; no Daphnes or Junes for me, Mary-Lou. And I'd like to leave before I'm expelled."
Neither Mary-Lou nor Catherine thought for one minute that there might be other options. In the environment in which they'd been brought up and lived, there were no other options. Besides which having the courage to face up to one's responsibilities in this respect, to leave school and forego one's chance at further education and a career, was as expected of any Malory Towers girl as attacking heavily defended enemy positions had been of their grandfathers and uncles – and more recently, some of their fathers.
Finally, Mary-Lou had the courage to ask "Does Miss Grayling know?"
Catherine nodded, face streaked with tears. "I had to tell her why I was leaving; there was no good reason otherwise. She and I agreed that the rest of the school will be told something else. Mother really is a little on the delicate side, and me leaving school to care for her is something the other girls would accept."
"So why are you telling me?"
Catherine looked stricken. "I had to tell someone," she whispered. "As much as I couldn't face letting it be widely known, not telling someone seemed, well, deceitful. And I know you won't tell. You're trustworthy, Mary-Lou; you're the most trustworthy of us all, you know."
Mary-Lou didn't quite know what to say. When it came to who epitomized the ideals of the school, she had always worshipped at the altar of Darrell Rivers. On the other hand, Catherine was a good deal older than both Mary-Lou and Darrell, having dropped back from the year above, and thus Mary-Lou found it easy to accept that Catherine had a superior perception of human nature. To somehow be put a rung above Darrell was quite unexpected, and it made Mary-Lou feel very grateful to Catherine. "Thank you," she whispered. "Is... is there anything I can do?"
But she saw immediately what she must do, because Catherine was shivering and crying. When Catherine actually dropped her head into her hands and started sobbing hysterically, Mary-Lou was almost glad; it made it easier for her to put an arm around the other girl and pull her close. She whispered what soothing words she could and tried to think of a way to make Catherine feel better. She didn't blame Catherine for her situation one bit; the danger posed by amorous young men was something all their parents had warned them about, and it could easily have been any one of them. Catherine in particular would be blaming herself quite enough without others adding to it. In particular, she saw how vital it was to keep Catherine's secret; the reactions of Alicia, Maureen and especially Gwendoline, if they ever found out, were not something she wanted to think about.
When Catherine had calmed down a little, Mary-Lou asked her, "What will happen after you leave?"
"The gentleman in question is going into the army," Catherine sobbed. "I've been given leave to marry him before he goes, so at least I'll have his name before things become obvious." Catherine now gave rent to several racking sobs, followed by, "Oh Mary-Lou, whatever would the others think? I've been so dreadful! And all those kind words from Miss Grayling when I first came here, all my promises to live up to them and never let the school down – all wasted! All broken!"
"Nonsense!" Mary-Lou replied. "What did Miss Grayling say when you first came here; try to remember."
"Oh, don't even make me think about it," Catherine sobbed. "I'm so ashamed!"
Mary-Lou stood, put both arms around Catherine and pulled the other girl against her. "I seem to recall something about kindness, good-heartedness, sensibility and trustworthiness. I never heard anything about being perfect."
"Trusthworthiness?" Catherine almost spat. "Do you think for one minute that anyone could see me as trustworthy after this?"
"Yes, I do. Myself, for one. Darrell almost certainly, and probably Sally too. It's not our mistakes that make us what we are, Catherine; it's what we do with them. Look at Daphne."
Catherine pulled back from Mary-Lou and looked up into her friend's face. Her own face was streaked with tears, which welled over her eyelids to trickle in a messy smear down her cheeks. "You'd really… you'd really see fit to associate with me? After this horrible thing that I've done?"
"Yes, I would."
"Oh, thank you!" Catherine cried, and flung herself back into Mary-Lou's embrace.
Four years later.
Mary-Lou finished her nursing training at Great Ormond Street Hospital and Darrell Rivers, who had kept up correspondence with most of her classmates, came to congratulate her. They went to a place nearby that served nice teas, and Darrell treated Mary-Lou to her tea and sweet of choice while they sat and talked.
"And so, Mary-Lou, whither to now?"
Mary-Lou smiled. "The powers that be want me to go somewhere else for a while. They're pleased with me, but they'd rather I broadened my experience before I settled down to one job. I've been thinking of the Children's Hospital at Manchester – I've heard good things – but there are a few other options I'd like to explore and I don't really know enough. I wonder if I could perhaps visit you sometime and ask your father's opinion."
"You certainly can, although you're just in time. I've just finished my studies also, and I've a scholarship for further study at Oxford, so I'll be living there for a while."
They sat talking for some time, and after a while their conversation drifted back to school days. Darrell had barely started reflecting on the pantomime when a figure on a street corner caught her eye. "I say, Mary-Lou; that girl looks familiar. Isn't it Catherine Gray?"
Mary-Lou looked, and saw her old friend. "Good gracious, it is!"
"Who's the child with her, I wonder? A little sister? A cousin? It looks far too old to be Catherine's."
Mary-Lou took a deep breath. The cover story had held all these years, but now there was no longer any need for it. There was especially no need with Darrell, who was kind and non-judgemental, and who certainly wasn't on speaking terms with those who were not. "Well, actually, it is her child."
Mary-Lou could almost sense the cogs whirring in Darrell's head, saw her counting on her fingers almost invisibly fast. "But that would mean… Good gracious, Mary-Lou, is that why she left Malory Towers?"
Mary-Lou nodded soundlessly, still not sure she'd done the right thing.
"Well, we must do something immediately." Darrell cupped her hands for a megaphone. "Hie, Catherine!"
The figure on the street corner had the mystified look of someone who knows their name is being called, but is unsure by whom.
"Catherine! Catherine Gray! Over here; it's Darrell! Darrell Rivers, remember?"
Catherine was filled with a mixture of shock and joy. Shock that she should be recognized after all this time; joy that Darrell's voice should carry such eagerness to see an old school chum. Pulling the child gently onto a new course and mumbling "This way, dear," she moved towards the pair of young women seated at their table on the pavement.
"Darrell; Mary-Lou; is it really you?"
"Of course it is," Darrell replied, reaching out behind her and effortlessly dragging an extra chair over. "Take a seat. Mary-Lou tells me the delightful little youngster is yours. What's her name?"
Catherine was amazed by Darrell's words, which had tumbled from this tall, graceful young lady as casually and as effortlessly as if she'd been reminding Catherine that it was rehearsal time for the pantomime. "Her… her name's Amy," Catherine stumbled, still trying hard to accept that someone who'd had the standing Darrell enjoyed at Malory Towers should not raise a fuss. She pulled the child onto her lap. "Amy, say hello to Miss Rivers and Miss…"
Mary-Lou cut her off. "Just 'Mary-Lou' will do," she told Catherine.
"A candidate for Malory Towers?" Darrell asked, after introductions had been made.
Catherine shook her head. "Sadly, no. I don't think we'll ever be able to afford to send her there. But you wait and see; with any luck, and a bit of effort, she'll be just as much of a Malory girl as any who ever went there."
"That's the spirit!" Darrell replied. "You can take the girl out of Malory Towers, but you can't take Malory Towers out of the girl. Now, what can I get the both of you for afternoon tea?"
Some time afterwards, when Darrell had gone, Catherine turned to Mary-Lou with tears in her eyes, while her daughter messily demolished the remaining half of a cream bun. "She had faith in me," Catherine said. "Why should that be, Mary-Lou?"
"Oh, Catherine. Darrell has faith in everyone; don't you know that? Even her faith in Gwendoline was rewarded at the end."
"I'd have liked to see that!" Catherine briefly smiled. "Mary-Lou, do you remember what you said all those years ago about being my friend?"
"Yes, I do," Mary-Lou replied. "I never understood why you didn't keep in touch."
"Foolishness, I suppose. Can we still be friends?"
"Yes, of course we can. Why don't I buy us both another cup of tea, and we can talk like old friends should."
THE END.